An Unfortunate Case
by Awkwardtheory
Summary: Joker and Harley Story. Very different than what you might think.
1. Chapter 1: The Interview

**Warning: If you are looking for a romancing, loving, changing Joker or smut, lemons, whatever you call it, then I strongly advise you to leave this story alone.**

**It is not charming, it is not nice. It is disturbing and not, in any way shape or form, a delightful tale.**

**It is not the usual loving, doting, obsessive Harley Quinn either.**

**It is first and foremost, a breaking story.**

**

* * *

****An Unfortunate _C a_ _s e_**

Death. Death and an undeniable sense of false justice. This is what filled the alleyways and all the secret places of Gotham city. The cracked and broken places that were in the line of vision of all the citizens of this monstertropolis. The trained person, on the other hand, looks the other way. They choose to ignore what the government tries to hide, so openly. What the people of Gotham choose not to see is their business, and the top guys liked it that way. Gotham's own city of visible lies…and liars. It's a very mad situation, and if you hadn't lived there long enough to understand the dynamics of such a morbid municipality, it was not a matter of if, but a matter of when.

Screaming. That high manic laughter and ripping noise of the flesh. The searing of the eyes of those who chose to watch such monstrosity on TV. It made some of them turn their heads, and some of them watched just because it was so revolting, that their eyes were glued to their position. Their minds drew a blank at this gruesome aversion to normal life. Why would a person find enjoyment in the torment and torture of another human being? …is what the people would ask. They ultimately came to the conclusion that he wasn't human. No. IT wasn't human. So much in fact that it didn't deserve to be given a sex. One of the determined human characteristics. But while the people hide behind ignorant logic, some knew this beast was indeed very much human. And it was him that made their vindictive actions null and void. It was his false justice and intolerance for the law that frustrated the task force and head honchos. Or what they thought was false justice. To him, it wasn't justice at all. To the joker, it was a random disturbance of artificial order. And it made this man tingle at the thought of screaming, death and lies. Those things fed his internal, restless flame. The fact that he could upturn a city of liars and judges with just a few blood-curdling videos and acts made him laugh. And he laughed all the time. See there was no law for this man. Another man, actually, had no laws. But he was the other side of the spectrum. Entirely. But he unlike the joker had one rule for himself. A rule that made the city love him…and hate him at the same time. He didn't live by the rules they had to follow. And so he was deemed a vigilante. A person who tried to take the law into his own hands. But that wasn't his purpose. He wanted nothing to do with the law. If it had been his purpose, however, he would have taken it easily. This was his city. And he had to give it what it needed, even if the reception for his services was a loathing one.

Shining. A muted clicking noise that came out of the busted TV sitting on top of a busted cabinet. And as another TV came on in another house, quite clearly and without disturbance from an antennae set, two men watched as a host woman talked about the upcoming guest on her highly rated talk-news show. The two men had a higher interest in the guest than the actual show, which was known for its personalized message of what was truly going on in the city. It was mostly just a gossip article for television. Not a great place to get actual information. But today, the guest didn't fit the normal standards of the usual chatty, popular celebrity that made witty comments about their attire. Today it was a scientist. An unknown psychologist who had just emerged from college. But both men knew exactly who this rogue guest was. And as she climbed the stage, barely getting any clapping from the audience that was told over and over again by a bright prompter to applaud, she was greeted and then told politely to have a seat.

Then, much to the anticipation of her unseen viewers, the conversation started.

"Well, well, well! It is such a great honor to have you as a guest here today on our show. As you all might not know, Harleen Quinzel is a just-out-of-college psychologist who has just finished an internship at the much talked about-"  
"Much avoided topic these days."  
Light laughter.  
"Yes, I suppose it's not the subject most want to bring up publicly. But here we go! She's just finished up her internship at Arkham Asylum. And I asked her to be on the show today to tell, to enlighten us, uh, on the position of being on the other side of the bridge, which as we all know has been closed off due to the tragic incident a few years back. Uh, so tell us Ms. Harleen. How, how did you feel going into the dark zone?"  
"Well, uh, how do I star-"  
"Oh and, sorry to interrupt, to add to the question, with such an agenda?"  
"Yes. Well…it certainly is a very daunting area. They actually made the whole island part of the asylum now."  
"Oh really?"  
"Yes, so it makes the campus a vast inmate playground. They actually have prisoner escapes at least two to five times a day. But since the whole island is a part of the facility, they almost never get past the draw bridge, so it's quite normal to se an inmate rummaging through the trash in some of the sections of the island."  
"My, that could get, get quite terrifying couldn't it?"  
"To say the least."  
"And these just aren't the regular high-jackers and kidnappers folks. These are the psychopaths and the murderers on this island, just to get you all to understand what kind of situation this young lady was in. But please continue Ms. Harleen."  
"Alright, well, the agenda. That was also a very daunting subject, and it wasn't that I wasn't ready for the task, but the task itself was a sensitive subject to all of the operatives of the asylum, so I wasn't able to gather much info about the inmate in question."  
"And who was the inmate you were put there to study?"

One of the men, the one with the raggedy TV that sat atop the unstable wooden cabinet, leaned closer in, as if the next answer were to be whispered. As though his mind was screaming silently over the room…_say it_.

"The Joker." (gasps go out across the audience)  
"It was a shock to me when I found out I had such a big assignment. If you could even call it that. You see,…this man-"  
"I would hardly call it a man, Ms. Harleen. This man accounts for the murders of many citizens of Gotham. All being committed while laughing his…well, manically laughing. It's a monster not a man."  
"I hardly see reason for that judgment Ms. Townshend. I must radically disagree with you. To say he is worse than any other murderer would be a slight misuse of the word. Because there are men out there, like Maroni and his gang of ignorant, who kill for financial gain and we can't even get them to a trial."

The man with the nice TV shuttered. The last person he knew to challenge the mob and call them out in public died with half of his mind in check. And he was the DA. This girl would keep him busy.

"Ms. Harleen, I strongly advise against talking about the mob so openly on this show."  
"I apologize, but I'm trying to make a point. You see, these people who kill for money aren't any different than a man who kills for pleasure. It's all for the sake of power. Men like power. That's what my theory is. They do it for the sake of knowing they have the upper hand on someone, whether it is a regular citizen who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or a man who hasn't paid his mortgage to the mob on time. It is all practically the same."  
"Thank you Ms. Harleen for your story but unfortunately we have to cut to a break. Coming up nex-"  
Click.

Both men turned off the TV. They got up and continued on with their meticulous, unusual occupations.

Bruce reminded himself that he had to watch out for this young woman, especially now that she was back inside the city. Maroni must want revenge on this girl who so candidly spoke about his work on primetime television. It would very frustrating to try to follow her around without being noticed. Something else bothered him though. Something that he saw in the woman as she spoke. The way she spoke about the joker. It was almost…defensive. Hopefully he had not gotten inside her head as he had Dent when she worked with him in the asylum. That would make matters a lot worse.

The joker walked through the slum house, pacing back and forth, thinking. Always thinking. Always figuring out the odds. What would he do about this…girl, who didn't have a proper respect for fear? He had watched her very closely in that interview. She had said nothing about their conversations, which yielded no fear in her then as it didn't do so now. She didn't flinch at his name. She didn't talk of his murderous past. She didn't even look like she wanted to be there in that studio room…with all that publicity. Yes, she looked quite uncomfortable. For one second in his mind he thought it was the conversations they had in the asylum. Maybeee, she just didn't like the fact that her _research_ had yielded no answers to why he enjoyed every minute of what he did out there on those forgotten streets. That's it. She's pissed that she couldn't pry way down deep into his emotions and carve out his insides with a psychological knife. Ahhh, how he would have _loved_ to see her get somewhere! But all of the bashing on his part …also led to the same place. Nowhere. He couldn't give this woman a label. He couldn't prick her with his wit. Mold and fashion her fear and the other little emotions that people so desperately try to avoid. She was an actor, she was. All about complicated eye movements and whatnot. Just to keep her line of vision out of everyone else's. That's what he saw on a daily basis with this woman. She would talk to a wall instead of her colleagues just so she could avoid eye contact.

And then when she got to him, she held it. Oh so, unshakably. When it came to him, she would stare almost the whole session. Maybe she did it to try and seem superior.

What made this woman so uncomfortable in the presence of society?

He'd like to think it was because of him, but deep down he knew.  
He knew she'd be a fucking tough one to crack.


	2. Chapter 2: Unexpected Visitor, or Not

She woke with such a start. Sweat poured down her eyelids settling at the nape of her neck, if it didn't fall of her chin first. Harleen didn't want to open her eyes. They were shut so tight that it felt as if she would have permanent wrinkles if she kept them closed any longer. It was uncomfortable to wake up to such an impenetrable darkness. It took about a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dark atmosphere of her slummy apartment. There was a sliver of light coming from her door, which made the trek from her bed a little easier. Tonka was sitting just outside whimpering.

"It's ok lovely."

Whiiiine. _Of course. I know you know I'm lying. _"I just like to make you feel better."

Huff.

"Hmhmhmhm, you silly girl. You're just too smart for your own good."

A smile was hard to accomplish after that horrid dream, but it would make Tonka feel better to know that her human was using that quintessential gesture to show her well being. But how she hated to smile. Not one authentic smile had crossed her lips since she took this job. Smiling was a way of lying to people. She knew that…and he knew that. That's why it was so hard to think to deeply about her current occupation. Being a psychologist was supposed to be a tough job, but not this tough. Not this grimy at least. Ever since she took the damned job, she knew she would regret it. The dreams started even before she knew she would be _researching_ the Joker. Uhg, researching. As if the inmates were rats in a lab. _Let's see if they can get the cheese at the end of the maze in under a minute!_ It disgusted her. She went into this job to help people. Not test their endurance levels. But that's what it felt like every hour she was on the island. No one related to her feelings about treating them like humans. People had this warped vision in Gotham that anybody who had committed a murder for anything other than money was no longer human, and should be treated as such. Murder is murder. It doesn't matter how it was done or why it was done. It all had the same underlying motive anyway you tossed it. Power. Men liked it. And they would do anything to achieve it. Animals. We're all just apes with a huge brain.

The water she was trying to drink lost its taste after that thought. It brought her back to that dream she was trying so hard to erase. She coughed up the water that entered into her trachea. Her mouth and throat had gone numb.

She could still feel that tongue…"JESUS CHRIST HARLEEN!" Slam! Tonka started barking.

She couldn't think of it.

"Shuddup, Tonka."

It wasn't a thing she could think of tonight. Not when she had to see him again tomorrow.

"I said shut it Tonka!" Tonka started to take strides around the living area. Once around the rug. Twice around the chair. Then once around the rug again.

Harleen paused before yelling at her rotty again.

"…what is it, girl?" She only did that when she was nervous.

--

Harleen checked the locks. One of the dead bolts weren't locked but that wouldn't be a problem. That door was shut tight. Nobody was getting in easily. But nevertheless, she checked the whole apartment. Her windows were slammed in on themselves, making them inoperable even to her. So that wasn't an entry point. Her vents were shut tight.

_Huh._

Tonka was never nervous unless she sensed something menacing either outside the apartment or inside. One time she had saved her human from carbon monoxide poisoning. She ran around the living room so fast that Harleen couldn't catch her to calm her down. There were different levels to her mad dashes though. This one wasn't that bad. Just a casual stroll around the rug. Probably because she had slammed her mug so damn hard on the counter.

_Better let her finish so she doesn't freak._

Having a Rottweiler was nice, but having one with a sixth sense for danger was even better. Especially for where she had live. It was such a slum hole. She had never thought she'd be in this situation. She had gone through schooling for just the opposite. No. It was just her family curse. No one could ever get out of it. She shouldn't try acting like fate would be any easier on her because of her abnormal capability to process the human psyche. In college, she and her friend had always yacked on and on about how your space defined you. Bunch of rubbish now. She had learned never to trust people after that. Not even if they had a golden seal of approval by societal standards. People were so predictable. Given a chance over something they wanted or something they should do…they'd pick their greed over thoughtfulness. Or their survival. Hey, she was no different. If she had known this when she was growing up, things would've been a lot calmer. How she hated drama.

She heard it before she saw it.

_Creeeeaaaaaakkk_

An almost misty flash out of the corner of her eye in her bedroom. Or was it in the kitchen?

_Damn, how'd they get in. I locked that door up tight._

Tonka was sitting in the middle of the rug, whimpering again. "Shhhhhhhhh, lady."

She needed complete silence. Figure out where the intruder was.

And then stick him with a pen in the neck.

She stood in the middle of the hall, waiting. She knew he knew she saw him.

But she couldn't keep from shaking. _That smell…_

Rusted metal. Newly restored caulk for the dents in the walls. Body odor. A horrid mix of piss and stomach regurgitation.

And asphalt mixed with gunpowder. Gunpowder.

_Shit._

"Hahahahaheehahahahoo. Aheh heh. Heh. The Doctor's humble abode. Not what I was really picturing, love. "


	3. Chapter 3: Power

**So hey guys. WHAT IT BE. I've been obsessed with finishing this chapter. Don't know if I'm extremely proud of it. But at least it's done. WHOO.**

**It's uh, more abusive than my other chapters. Cause the others had none. At all.**

**This one does. **

**You have been warned.**

**:D))**

**~hayes**

* * *

An Unfortunate Case

**Chapter 3 **

The door was locked. She knew it was locked. She had checked it twice. And kept looking back at it throughout the after work.

There was no way in hell that he got through those deadbolts without making a mess of it. No chance. She just saw him. Today, in the interrogation room. He sat there, with his hands in his lap. Giggling. Staring. Prying. Disturbing.

Although she didn't want to admit anything like the fear on her senses right now…she couldn't help the vulnerability that entered the pit of her chest.

It crept into her mind like a slow moving train…that wasn't stopping.

She needed to think. Think. _Think extremely hard._

Why wasn't he _doing_ anything? Why wasn't he moving? He must be thinking too.

The cogs and wheels of his sick twisted mechanical brain were running at speeds of up to 300 mph.

They must be. He's too precise for anything less.

_GOT TO GET OUT HARLEY._

Too late.

The beast spoke.

"I bet you're wondering why I, uh, didn't change right?"

_Not at all._

"Dress for the occasion…and such."

_He's fucking with you. _I know.

Giggle. "I just _couldn't _fin_d_ anything_a_ to wear in your dressers. It's all very plain and dul_l_." He took some few short, precise steps over to the door. That was supposed to secure her from...things.

Things like this.

The sweat was making an appearance. And boy, how it loved to perform. It poured over her, relishing in its salty victory, dampening her forehead and behind her knees first. Then it crept along under her hair, just around the base of her neck. Then making a finale out of the small of her back.

"Oh. _Ohhhhhh._ You'd thought, heh heh, you'_d_ thought I hadn't been here to long right_t_? Busted in through the vents or something normal and sophisticated like that, hmmmm? Did you think that?"

No movement was necessary. Not unless she wanted to provoke some on his part as well.

NO. She didn't want him to move. Keep him talking.

But that required moving. It required the muscles in her jaw and cheeks to contract and release. And she couldn't. A deer caught in headlights.

"Oh come _oo_n, Harley. I'm not a car."

_What?!_

She was barely even registering what he was saying. Every little thing, that twitching of his hands, those vibrating vocal chords, those facial expressions.

Things she had seen every day. Every damn day for last month and a half. She registered them then. Why not now. Why couldn't she answer him with stark remarks like she had every day she dealt with him in the clinic.

_Why do think it's a clinic? It most certainly is NOT-_

They weren't questions they were answers.

"You know, it's funny that the use of these, um, deadbolts they're called?"

HAHAHA, how delightfully ironic!

"It's funny how, they um, pr_even_t you from locking them when you are ou_t_ of the room, no?"

Giggles. Jiggling of the chains on the door.

Silence. Deeper than before. The silence of realization.

"You didn't rea_lly_ think I'd stoop so low as to crawl through a ventilation shaft, did you Harley? No, no, no. you'ra inte_ll_ectual. Too smart for THAT sorta think_ing_."

"B-but I saw you. Toda-"

The blow to her abdomen hit with a sudden vengeance.

The rough, greasy hands locked on her neck rupturing capillaries under her skin. Filling the place under his hands with color.

Objects, shadowed by the room's lack of illumination, were hammered over by the mass of bodies flying across the room. Harleen heard it faintly as the breath was knocked out her as he rammed her into the wall.

She collapsed to floor. Coughing. Sputtering with every shaken breath she gulped for.

Everything was muffled. The late objects falling to the floor with angry crashes. The dog barking from her safe zone in the kitchen. The laughing. The _laughing._ That loud, muted, hysterical, manic, pleased laughter.

It was terrifying.

"Don'_t_ speak out of turn Harley-kins. There's a _ti_me and a _pla_ce for eve_ry_thing, ya' know."

He bent over her confused body eyeing her face, smiling.

God, that smell. Grease, blood, gunpowder, rust and …something like a sweet carrot.

She couldn't recover fast enough.

This time he threw head against a table. Splinters and ripped out hair flying by her sluggish moving vision.

But the knock to her head, drew some life back into her.

She gathered herself up to bolt into the kitchen. Too late.

He helped her get there faster.

She felt her ribs barely holding together as she crashed into the countertops. Still awake.

Again with the broken gasping for air.

Again with the laughing.

Before she picked up her head, he banged it back down onto the slate and marble.

Trickles of blood and sweat dampened her hair, mixing onto the surface.

Still awake. She wished she wasn't.

And he still laughed. Pleased with her dramatic performance.

"Little feisty tonigh_t_, aren't we Harley-kins?"

She tried to answer him back with a fuck you, but something was sliding down her throat, choking her.

Choking her with iron and rust.

Oh yeah. The blood.

He held her face against the counter, sideways, and with his free hand he held her arms above her head.

She could barely cough to open up her airways to remove the intruding liquid clogging her trachea.

Just barely though.

What's worse was the body smashed up against her back side. Breathing down her neck. Across her right ear. That hot, wet guttural sound that came from the pit of his stomach when he chuckled. She could feel his abdomen rising and falling with each ecstatic breath he took. She wanted to vomit.

"I'll letyago if you promise to be a _goo_d girl. I'll even play fair and, uh, let's see. Take a moment to gathe_r_ your bearings."

She thrashed around under him as he stroked her hair out of her face, still keeping a firm arm on her neck.

Grunting and flailing her legs any which way they would go.

She soon realized that was a bad idea.

"Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhg, you just _don't_ know when to give" slam on the fridge. "in" slam back into the wall "**do you?**" He threw her on the floor next to the dishwasher.

Her eyes were glazed over with a red tint reaching her to irises. She was dizzy and her body screamed at her injuries. Her brain wasn't registering movement fast enough. Wasn't sending the right signals at the right speed. She'd try to move her arm and her whole head would roll to the side. Try to move her leg and her eyes would twitch.

"Are you done?"

Nothing. No signals.

"Hhhh_mmmmmmmm?_"

Finally. She could move her eyes.

She turned them to the man in front of her, who was biting his lower lip in anticipation. Making his scars look even more gruesome to observe.

She slammed her eyes shut in repulse.

He wasn't wearing his make up.

But it had been like that at all of the sessions. Why did it disgust her so much right now? Was it the distance? Was it because he was so chillingly close to her own face at this moment?

"Look. Harley." He grabbed her chin and pulled it straightforward. If her eyes had been open, and not averted, then they would be staring at one another, only inches away. Again, the heated breath clogged up her nostrils as he spoke.

"I didn't mean for ya' to, make such a _display_. Flattery will get you nowhere in this world. Well, maybe in some cases." He laughed.

"Why…h-how did you get out?" She wheezed out that like an 80 year old on a breathing machine. Pathetic.

"Aww, I just wanted visit my favorite therapist. You know, our disc_u_ssion today got me thinking about you." Laugh. "I always think about you, so scratch that la_st_ part. You know how you said that, every man wants power? You remember that part?"

He tilted her head back. And then let it drop.

Slap.

She screamed, a muted one, but it still could register over her hall if he hadn't clamped a callused hand over her mouth.

Her cheek started to swell from the impact.

"We don't need any visitors, now _do_ we? Are we awake now?"

She stared at the floor, away from his black orbs. Anywhere but those pits.

He grabbed her face again in both hands. The pressure was excruciating.

"Harley, I want to show you something. I want to prove to you, that, uh, all your _theories_ about power? Yeah, they're not entirely correct. I want you to see power the way, well, I see it."

He held her face tighter. If it was even possible.

"I want you to look at me when I talk to you, Harley."

Floor.

"Harley….H_arrleeeey." _He was growling now.

He lifted his hand.

She flinched. Then, painfully, put her eyes to his. Like she had done so every day in the asylum.

"See what I'm getting at? Power does things for people. _It gets them what they want._ It also helps sort out the weaker people from the stronger people. Power has reduced you, hehehe, to this. A slump on the floor, quivering in my hands like a girl that's just been struck by her mother for the first time."

He paused for his words to reach her ears.

"You though, you blame power for the evil in the world, and then fa_k_e like you have power over your surroundings every day. It's all very relative…if ya' ask me."

She blinked.

"You have lovely eyes, Dr. Quinzel. Don't make me have to peel off your eyelids so that they'll stay open."

Now she couldn't stop staring.

"Now, to get to the point. I….want you to come with me for a while. No, shush, shush, shush. It'll be fun. Like a getaway from this…hectic, gratuitous life. You'll get to see me first hand! In acti_on_. It'll be like a documentary that you'll witness from be_hind_ the lens."

He was enjoying this. Every minute of it. His eyes glistened with the deliberations revolving around in his acrid mind.

Relishing the fact that he was in control. She hated how vulnerable and pathetic he had made her in just a few minutes. She thought she was better than this. Better at handling these kinds of situations.

Damn. She had never actually been in any of these situations. It seemed so much easier on screen.

He stood up and strode out of the room. She could hear him rummaging through her bedroom. And through the bathroom.

Probably shouldn't have broken that medicine cabinet mirror.

What a idiotic thought.

She managed to lift her head slightly. She saw that Tonka hadn't moved from her haven under the table.

She was shaking very badly.

Harleen felt a pang of guilt. She didn't mean to drag her into this.

Clang.

He was muttering as he searched for…whatever he wanted. He had complete control over this. He was making a lot of noise though.

Time to try …_something_. Anything. She couldn't just sit there and do nothing…or could-

_NO. You will NOT give up this easily._

"Tonka."

She lifted her head. Staring hopefully at her human with unmoving eyes.

If dogs had expressional faces, Harleen would probably cry.

"Tonka, walk?"

The dog seemed to get a bit of what her human was suggesting, but why now? Wasn't she hurt? Didn't that _other_ human dominate whether she moved or not? She whimpered out of the confusion.

"No, Tonka, walk. Wanna go for a walk?"

She perked her ears up. She really needed to mark that tree that that stupid dachshund took from her this morning. She knew he had seen her mark there before. That was _her_ tree. Confidence surged through her.

Tonka got up quietly and went to get her leash off the rack. She didn't want that other human to get any ideas. She had nothing he wanted to mark. Except her human. But that was their business. Her human had said NO and STAY. She couldn't go against that.

Tonka came back in with the leash jingling in her mouth.

Harleen didn't know what exactly to do with a dog leash, but maybe she could whip him in the face or something catch him off guard for a second. Enough for her to get to the bedroom and lock the door. But Tonka. What about her baby? She couldn't just leave her to the mercy of the Joker. She didn't know what she would do without her best friend around.

The only person in the entire world who understood her, couldn't even speak her lingo.

Ironic.

Jingle

Jingle jingle

Jingle

YELP.

"NO! STOP! SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! LET HER GO!"

"What a pretty pooch. Bet she fit nicely as a throw rug, don't ya thin_k_?"

"Please, ST-STOP!"

"She soo mild mannered too. Trusting. So…scared. You taught her good, Harley-kins. Did you know the breed before you bought her? Disgusting how pathetic and _good_ she is."

"D-don't bring her into this, Joker. She's not a problem for y- stop, STOP TOUCHING her!"

She was having spasms under his grip. God, she must be terrified.

"Oh, _I_ brought her into this? No. Harley. _You _brought her into this."

HIINE. HIIIIINE. Crack.


	4. Interlude One

**This is a little flashback from harley's pov.**

**I thought I'd try doing these every few chapters. Just to give a little bit of info on what happened at the asylum before the incident. Hope it helps. There will be more of these.**

**

* * *

**

**Interlude No. One**

I didn' t think he saw me. I'd hoped he hadn't seen me.

I cowared behind the wall desparetly clinging to each ragged breath escaping my lungs.

In. Out. In. Out.

Just keep telling yourself to take it slow. _Breathe. Breathe._

It was like a bomb had dropped on my face, filling it with color and heat.

I had to run. Get out of this place. Get away from here. This acrid hell hole that kept me here. The place I used to enjoy going to. This place…this haven that I escaped to everyday. Every night.

It was my heaven…and now my hell. Only because of _him_.

Only because of the ache in my stomach that his face seems to bring on. That only makes an appearance when he speaks. Only when he chuckles.

Everything I've been taught throughout the years, the things that have been ground so unecessarily hard into my cranium, scream at me in rage that I would let these emotions in my chest.

Oh, how I would love to cry. Cry out these pathetic feelings. Let them run down in salty streams off my chin onto the chest which would heave between wretched sobs.

Watch them soil my face. Make it red with humiliation and ruin.

Until everything was washed out of me. Until sorrow was no longer a factor and exhaustion was all that crammed my senses.

The thumping started to set it deep behind my throat and reached my ears. It was hollow and painful.

God, how could this happen? Am I really just a twisted, sick tharapist that gets her kicks from murderous psychos? Why him? Whyyyyyyy him?

I don't make **any** sense at all.

Maybe it's not supposed to. Many things in life don't make sense. Just think of it like that.

Oh no, someone's coming. Gotta find another place to steal away.

Composure. Composure is your best fiend-I MEAN FRIEND. Course I meant friend.

"Ms. Quinzel?" A soft voice. Thank you.

"Yes?" Sniff. Damn. "Ah, Arnold. Can I help you with something? You look worried."

"Well, sort of." He looked down as if he was guilty. "He's been asking for you. And he won't stop writing your name into the walls."

"Good grief, who was the genius who gave him that sort of tool?"

"God Ms. Quinzel. He's using his nails."


	5. Chapter 4: Wake

**So finally, after couple of weeks, I have updated.**

**I hope you like this one as much as I did. :D**

**I want to finish this whole thing quickly and then again, I don't. **

**It needs to be slow and right. So if you wanna fast read. Please, don't hate; just go read something else.**

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Chapter 4

She didn't want to open her eyes. She felt as if they were glued shut to her sockets. It had been such a horrid dream. Worse than the others.

Worse…because it had been so _real_.

The sweat pooled around her head and soaked the pillow. Her hair would need washing. This made her even more upset. Wasting water for such a stupid reason. She had _just_ washed her hair last night.

She felt the light seep through her eyelids as the sun rose over the window sill. She let its radiant light wash over her body as she slid off the comforter.

Her eyes, though, still remained closed in discomfort.

The wrinkles on her forehead hurt as the skin was tightly bunched up into folds.

_Such an awful, appalling, caustic nightmare._

She placed her hand over the sealed lids as if trying to shield them from falling right out of her head.

Reluctantly, she sat up and looked painfully out of her cracked, shabby window.

Dust floated aimlessly through the streaks of golden light coming through her blinds, having nowhere to go, no one to see, no place to settle.

It was pathetically beautiful. Even if it was just pet dander and dead skin.

It gave the morning rays a certain decency, and attracted Harleen's gaze just long enough to make her waste just enough time, so that she would be just several minutes late to work.

If she factored in her morning routine, which staring redundantly at floating particles was not a part of, she could have walked Tonka by now, gotten her morning coffee brewed and eaten a honest enough breakfast.

She jumped out of bed, shoved open her beaten closet door and throw on some old sweat pants and a holey sweater.

What good was a sun, if it couldn't even produce enough warmth to heat up a dingey old apartment?

Rushing out the door of her bedroom wasn't a great idea. She forgot that Tonka sits just outside it and falls asleep like a rock.

She tripped and fell flat on her face, leaving Tonka running around her, barking and yelping in a terrified fury.

"Geezus, Tonka girl. Calm down. It's only me."

Tonka gleefully came up to lick Harleen's face. So much slobber was produced from her mouth, that it got into Harleen's nose and mouth causing her to push Tonka's face away, unsuccessfully.

How one, measly dog could create so much saliva in a few seconds was beyond her.

She sat up only to bend forward at the tenderness, so that her chest would settle from the unwelcomed knock against the floor.

Cursing about how the floors were only cement block masked by carpet, she jumped up and told Tonka to get her leash.

It took the rotty a second to get what her master meant, but after a second command she knew exactly what to do. She wagged her tail in submissive agreement.

The trainer said that this would increase her intelligence by some percentage that Harleen failed to remember. That lady must've made the statistic up, because all she saw that changed in Tonka was an increased affiliation for her leash.

At least she knew what it meant now. At least Harleen didn't have to spend thirty minutes cleaning up the mess from the already damaged carpet…and then wait another two days for the smell to subside.

She had spent so much money on air fresheners in the first few months with Tonka. But whatever the cost was at the time, whether it was piss-smelling rugs or a torn-up chair arm, it was worth every cent.

Tonka had become like her second arm. The best friend that she never had. They thought about the same exact things at the same exact times, not that either one of them would admit it to the other, even if they could. If Tonka was hungry, Harleen would feel her stomach grumble with frustration. If Harleen went to the bathroom to freshen up for work, Tonka would spend hours licking herself like a cat.

They were soul mates. And Harleen didn't know what she would do without her.

Tonka pranced over to Harleen with so much pride that it practically radiated off the beast.

She plopped down beside her owner and tried to wait patiently for her to finish her drink.

_Humans drink so funny like_.

She was taking so loooooong though.

_Why do I always have to your attention?_

Tonka grumbled impatiently.

"Oh, sorry lady. I didn't see you sitting there." Harleen brushed back the fur atop her dog's head affectionately.

She brought so much normalcy back into Harleen's hectic life, she couldn't help but be grateful.

Normalcy to the often insane schedule of her insane occupation.

Once they got to the lobby, Harleen noticed the splattered windows and drenched people running in and out of the double doors, as if too much exposure would burn their skin. She wouldn't doubt it. In Gotham, one could never tell when the elements would be harsh or compliant.

She decided to brave the cold downpour instead of live through the smell of an un-walked dog.

Tonka, on the other hand, wasn't so brave. She put a bit of tension on the line as Harleen tried to pull her and coax her outside.

"Oh come on Tonx, it's not like you're allergic to water."

Whatever her human had just said, she knew she disagreed. Completely.

"Now quit your sobbing and move it." She tugged swiftly on the leash to snap the dog out of her rebellion and took several reluctant steps outside.

What Harleen didn't know, what she couldn't see at the moment, was that outside of the building stood a figure, drenched just like all the others, but this figure wasn't trying to run from the clouds' relief. No. It just stood there stoically letting the rain fall over him, coating him like a new layer of clothing.

It stood just across the street. It stood staring. Staring at the two who just emerged from the apartment entrance.

It didn't have a nice suit on like the bustling figures swarming to and fro around him.

It had on a suit, but not the kind the tailor preferred making. It was a bright, but far from cheery, orange generically fashioned inmate suit.

On the right breast pocket, a white patch with the mark AAI3357 sewed broadly, a bit too broadly, into the cloth.

Tonka saw him. And she knew what he was. She sensed him even before they went through the door to the lobby. She knew his menacing leer would mean nothing but trouble. Trouble for her owner.

_Stop._

She tried to reach her human. But to no avail. She was distracted by a man down the street who had just bumped into her.

_Stop._

She needed her to listen. Just this once, she needed more than just her attention. She needed her ear.

_Stop. Look. There. Can't you hear me? Momma. Listen._

"Momma. Listen to me."

Harleen looked down as if some child should be around her legs tugging on her pants.

"Momma. Listen. Listen to me."

Harleenfelt her heart skip a beat. As she gaped down at where the placid voice was coming from.

She thought she had taken one too many sleeping pills last night. No way in hell, would her dog be talking to her.

But then again, it didn't seem unusual either. It felt…it felt important.

"Look. Look over there. Do you see it?"

Harleen felt icy. Goosebumps littered her pale skin as she looked up.

"Do you see the evil? Do you see it?"

The cold was nauseating. The cold was filling up her whole body. The water was filling the streets. And the people turned into black mirages as they sifted by.

"Don't you love me momma?"

Harleen couldn't take her eyes off the figure on the other side of the street. It loomed in her vision. And the water rose.

And the cold took over her body.

She felt a hand on the back of her head, grabbing fistfuls of hair.

"Why didn't you save me momma?"

Harleen felt tears roll down her saturated face. She could tell the difference because of the salt.

She opened her mouth to answer, but something else happened. Something blocked her reply. It pushed the words back down her throat.

She felt her lungs being infiltrated by quarts of water. Cold, unforgiving, loathing water.

The pressure in her head was excruciating. She tried to lift her head, but a wall blocked her movements. A warm, strong…revolting wall.

She felt herself slipping into a creeping darkness.

Suddenly the wall was removed and she could lift her head. But it was so heavy now. She needed help.

And help came. Swiftly.

She felt hair tangling up in the fist that pulled her out of the icy tomb.

She didn't care so much though. The pain was gone. She had started to go numb and she wanted to give in to the exhaustion that racked her once aching body. She closed her eyes and gave into the darkness. It seemed quite friendly now.

But a force was blowing into her lungs. A force was breathing into her, waking her up from her comfortable submission.

That force released her mouth and let her cough up the water that settled in her lungs.

She couldn't feel anything but the heaves of water flowing out of her mouth.

Then she felt something warmer. Something slimier and more controlled enter it.

It moved through her mouth, tracing everything from the roof to the back of her tongue.

It was warm and welcomed after all that cold.

Until she opened her eyes. God. Why did she have to open her eyes? Why did she have to see what was bringing her back to life? Wasn't it enough just to feel it? Why did she have to _see_ it?

She tried to push him away with what strength had returned to her. She screamed a subdued scream.

He released her. But only his mouth. He still held her tightly, too tightly, against his lap and against his chest. His smell was so strong. It burned her nostrils and made her gag.

"Uhg, Harls. Why do you have to go and ruin all the fun?"

He looked over to the door for a second and motioned for her to look also.

She didn't know what the right thing to do was. Look away from him, and he could make a move. Don't comply with his wish, and he would probably get annoyed.

She looked cautiously over at the doorway leading to the bedroom.

There lying on the floor, peaking around the corner, was Tonka. Whimpering ever so softly.

She was resting her head on her unbroken paw. The other was awkwardly lying in an angular manner that shouldn't be possible.

Confusion flushed Harleen's mind. She thought…she knew…

"You know you should really get over that fainting reflex. It'll hurt you too much in the future."

Harleen stared at his unmasked face with a sense of repulsive, sickening…gratitude.

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**Okay, so I hoped I screwed with your heads a bit.**

**I really liked writing this one. I hope you liked reading it.**

**I put alot of foreshadowing in this one, so see if you guess where now. :}**


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